Do I Bleed Red Enough?
by Lilith Lunatic
Summary: This is the story of a man who belives himself the worst kind of monster, but can the woman he loves more than anything else make him believe he can be loved in return? Spuffy!
1. Prologue: Love, or Lack There Of

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"A wretched soul bruised by adversity,

Be bid quiet when we hear it cry,

But we were burdened with like way of pain,

As much or more we should ourselves complain."

William Shakespeare

Prologue: Love, or Lack There Of

Somebody once said, "Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." I probably should've remembered that before I got myself into this whole bloody mess. I fell head over heals, over the moon in love, but the issues are I was an evil, vicious vampire, and she was Buffy Summers, the vampire slayer. When we did have a relationship of sorts, it was secret, but when we were discovered, it ended. That was entirely my fault, and when I- what I did can never be forgiven. But what is not entirely my own fault is that she made me love her, it's partially hers as well. She made me fall in love with her 'til the end of the world, and far beyond that. The end of the world at the infamous Sunnydale Hellmouth… I would share her burdens as well as I could, any of them, all of them, except this one…

_"I love you."_

_"No you don't, but thanks for sayin' it"_

She was gonna stay with me at the end, watch all of Sunnydale be swallowed up from the front seat… and I just couldn't let her. It's not that I don't love her, I do, more than I ever thought possible, Lord knows I'd do absolutely anything for her, but I shouldn't… after all I'm soddin' monster, we shouldn't be allowed to love, soul or no soul, and it all started before I got my soul. I've come to realize three things about vampires: we trim out the worst of the humans, we're one big sick cosmic joke for the bloody Powers That Be wankers, and no matter how much or how long or how hard we love someone, they will never love us back. She may have said she did love be before by fiery demise, but she was just guilty that it was all up to me and nobody else. Not that she wanted to die, but that it wasn't her choice to save the world, the jealousy, no matter how small, and the guilt is what made those three little words spill from her lips, 'cause in the end, I think it's just me who can't be loved in return…


	2. Chapter 1: News of Old

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"Why, let the stricken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play;

For some must watch, while some must sleep:

So runs the world away"

William Shakespeare

"Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 2"

Chapter One: News of Old

Giles flipped through the ancient tome, bleary vision unfocussed on the scribbled Sanskrit before them. He blinked and looked across the long table to see a slumbering Andrew. They had been at this particular research streak for the last six days, various members of the newly re-formed Watchers' Council flowing in and out on the session. The only ones who had stayed at almost the entirety of the time were he, Andrew, and Willow- who was currently fetching some much-needed coffee.

They were researching the upcoming apocalypse, thought to be approaching in Cleveland, Ohio: the only Hellmouth left _supposedly_. Little did Rupert Giles know, he was about to learn of his grave misdirection.

Willow zoomed into the library, the coffee splashing out of the cups as she set them down. Giles looked a question at her.

"A seer in the Coven called. Giles, the apocalypse isn't in Cleveland, it's in L.A., and it's already begun!" Willow sputtered out, panicking.

Giles paused, shock evident on his ageing features. Thinking quickly, he was soon off, off to contact the others all around the world, off to meet the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, nor any of its affiliates and canons. Nor do I own the Shakespearean quotations placed about the story. I do own the plot and all original characters and ideas, if you want to use them, just ask! This applies to all chapters previous and following just because I do not want to write it all over again.

AN: I know the post-NFA things been done, but I do not like how it all ended, so I am throwing in my lot and hope comes out gold.


	3. Chapter 2: Roman Angels

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"Hark, Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies

And winking Mart-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes:

With everything that pretty is

My lady sweet arise"

William Shakespeare

"Cymbeline, Act 2 Scene 3"

Chapter Two: Roman Angels

Buffy Summers was your average girl, with a not so average pastime. Sure, she enjoyed clubbing, watching television, and hanging out with dear friends. But what most people do not know, she the Vampire Slayer, the first and foremost official Chosen One of her time. And her favorite pastime? Averting apocalypses.

On this particular day in the city of Rome, Italy, she was hunting a particularly particular band of demons: The Roage Tribe. This clan had been supporting and attempting to bring forth an ancient entity hell-bent on wiping the Earth of its human infestation.

Buffy found them easily enough, killing them was the catch. The race of demon that made up the clan were brutal, strong, and from another dimension and time. Oh, and did I mention looking to bring forth an apocalypse. So it seems Buffy should be enjoying herself, right? Wrong.

At the moment, she was being held down by her arms on the ground by two of them while a third came at her with a nasty look and looking axe. When the third demon was upon her, she pushed her legs hard and fast up against its face. She place one foot at the back of its head and the other heel at the left side of its face, twisting until the neck had snapped. Then, lifting the dead demon over her, she threw it at the two pinning her down. They soon let go and allowing Buffy to pick up the axe, slice the throat of the first and stab the second in the gut, but unbeknownst to her, the fourth slipped away to inform its master of the failure.

Suddenly, someone was clapping. Buffy spun around to see a figures silhouette leaning against an old birch tree, still clapping.

"Who are you?" Buffy shouted, regaining fighting stance.

"Who me? Just a messenger sent," the short man said, walking away a little from tree, face still hidden in the shade.

"Sent for what?"

"To warn you. About an apocalypse in L.A. It's going down right now."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to," the mysterious figure said.

Buffy's cell began to ring just at that moment.

"Hello?"

"Buffy? It is Giles. You have to get on the first flight to L.A. There is an apocalypse occurring. We were wrong Buffy, the Hellmouth isn't active yet, the fights is Los Angeles…"

"Alright, I'll get going."

Buffy turned back to the man to ask him how he knew, only to find him gone.

Back at the apartment Buffy shared with Dawn, the two were getting ready for a flight while the Immortal was attempting to persuade her otherwise.

"I'm sure the others can handle it, sit back relax…" he said trying to take the suitcase from her like he had been for the past hour or so.

"Tal! I'm going and that's final," Buffy shouted from exasperation, pulling the suitcase out of his grip. "Come on Dawn, time to go!"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," the Immortal growled, his voice harsh. When Buffy turned to argue, she got a punch in the face that sent her flying across the room.

"Tal, what're you-"

"You think I would be dating someone like you of my own will? Wolfram and Hart are compensating me well for distracting you?''

"Distracting, huh? What makes you think I don't have my own agenda for being with you?" Buffy spat back, aiming a crossbow that had been on an end table.

"What?" the Immortal shouted.

"You know what, Tal; you claim to be able to make any female fall in love with you. I'm thinking that should be _almost_ any female," she said, pulling the trigger and watched her target turn to ash just as Dawn came out of the bedroom.

"You finally dust him?" she asked her big sister.

"Yeah."

"Finally, mission over, we move back to England."

"Yeah, after the apocalypse anyway," Buffy agreed with a smile, glad she finally got rid of the thing that had been terrorizing Italy for God knows how long, and now it was time to save the world… again.

Second chapter finished! YAY! Not sure if it's any good though. Please review, or I won't get to do my happy dance of crazy fun joy: 

Luv Lilith!

Oh and PS- Does anybody know if Buffy know who Doyle is? And do you know Doyle's full name? Kinda need to know, please.


	4. Chapter 3: Los Angeles Devils

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate

As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize

As the dead carcasses of unburied men

That do corrupt my air- I banish you."

-William Shakespeare

"Coriolanus, Act 3 Scene 3"

Chapter Three: Los Angeles Devils

You ever heard that life flashes before your eyes as you die? Well, considering I've died twice before, I think I could do without seein' what a pathetic excuse for a being I am… _again._

This is just one of the dozens of thoughts that popped into my noggin as us four survivors of the "Fang Gang" faced all those demons in the alley behind the Hyperion Hotel; Illyria, Charles Gunn, Angel, and me. Charlie-boy guessed there were about thirty-thousand on the left, and thirty-thousand on the right, and as I look out over all these buggers, I think he under-calculated for the- oh, I don't know- thirty-thousand in the middle.

_"Let's go to work."_

Now, I've never been one for following my grand-sire's orders, or entering I fight that didn't have a least a marginally small chance of me makin' it out without needed one of those feather duster things… but in this case, I make an exception, 'cause there's not really much else I could do other than waitin' to be staked- which is not bloody likely. The only regrets I really have are not apologizing to Dawn about all the stuff that'd been mucked up, and not findin' out if Buffy _really_ had meant what she said- and once again, not bloody likely.

Thinking and doing are two completely different things for me, and there usually not at the same time, cuts down on confusion and the stakes through the chest, but durin' this particular fight, all I'm thinkin' now is, _"I've gotta get through this, and get to Buffy."_

It's been a few hours and now, I'm cut through hordes of demons, so many I only have time to put in one hit or less- and this is after I nick an axe and a sword- not havin' the time or the patience to check it their dead or not before I move onto to the next six-to-ten. The air is so full of the stench of demon, blood, and death that I can't very well pick out where anyone else is, and the sounds of the battle are so deafening, I can't make out any blow-for-blow unless I'm seein' it, and even that sense is impaired from damage and sheer density of the warring bodies. Still, through all this that's happening around me, I feel Buffy.

By this point I'm run down, beatin' up, and over-stretched, but still at it all the same, so I think it's a fluke, I'm mistaken, goin' outta my head… and the funny thing is, no matter how crazy I believe her being here is, the feeling doesn't go away. I'm pretty sure there's no way she's here, but the feeling gets stronger…

I'm still in the middle of the hordes, madness all about, and then I catch her sent. So elated and appalled she'd put herself in this situation that I'm spinnin' about, trying to catch a glimpse of her, turning my back on the enemy- a truly stupid thing to do- and I see her… Buffy.

Well, Buffy and the Scoobies and all her Slayerettes, but still, she came…

By the time, I'm over the initial shock and the world goes back to normal speed, I'm surrounded, weaponless, and pinned to the filthy, blood-covered concrete, a stake comin' down toward my heart and I think, _"Buffy!"_, but say, "Bollocks…"

Well, there's the cliffhanger, and my happy dance for all the reviews da-tada-ta-do-ooh-ooh!.

Thanks to all those who helped with Doyle's full name and Buffy's knowledge and for all the support and constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy!

Luv Lilith.


	5. Chapter 4: Through a Glass Darkly

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"O, that this too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His cannon 'gainst self-slaughter! Oh, God! God!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!"

William Shakespeare

"Hamlet, Act One Scene Two"

Chapter Four: Through a Glass Darkly

Charles Gunn had a few lessons about life. The first was staking anything that was dead and moved. The next was never to drink on an empty stomach, or on a challenge against a certain en-soul-ed vampire. The last- a recent discovery- never piss of a hell-god.

The last thing he remembers- before dying that is- was thinking about how if he made it out of this, he was going to raise Wesley from the dead, and kill him all over again for getting himself killed by a six ka-jillion year old fossil of a demon.

The pansy-ass Englishman.

But for now, he had to focus, on what he wasn't entirely sure, because at the moment he was currently engaged in a impromptu staring contest with his evil twin. Well, not really his _twin_, more like replica, but evil all the same. The same evil that resided in the White Room at the offices of Los Angeles's own Wolfram and Hart.

This was going to be a long night.

---

It was cold. That was the first thing he noticed, blue eyes fluttering open to see a shocking white ceiling, or at least what he assumed to be the ceiling. Picking himself up from the shocking white floor, the same color as everything else, making it hard to define heads or tails of wherever he was.

The next thing he noticed was the noise, or really that there was no noise, not even the sound of his footfalls. It was creepy. The term was unmanly and foolish, but there was no other way to describe it, and as much as Wesley Wyndham-Pryce hates to admit it, it made him on edge.

Thirdly, he noticed the door. It was big, white, and ominous. Though why it was any of these things, he didn't know and didn't particularly want to find out, especially the ominous bit. _But alls well that ends well, unless it all goes to hell, _Wesley thinks to himself, gripping the door knob, every nerve in his body screaming for him to turn back now.

---

Winifred Burkle was angry. Angry with Angel. Angry with Cordelia. Angry with Wesley. Angry at Illyria. Did she mention Wesley?

It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to brood, that was Angel's job. Only one brooding person at a time, please, thank you. He's suppose to be the one who survives everything, Wesley is.

She blames herself, for not making it clear enough that if he died; she was going to kill him.

She was made at Illyria for not making this clear enough.

Fred is so going to kick her ass.

---

Angel is the stupidest, most arrogant asshole in the world. She should know. She's had to deal with him for the past six years, give, or take a death, summer under the ocean, and comma.

Cordelia tapped her foot impatiently, letting a frustrated huffing noise escape her. This demeanor is not one suited for a Power.

But then again, like she cared, she was mad and didn't care who knew.

This was not the way things were to have been handled. Of course, Angel never really learned to take things in stride, or at least not the way he should've. He couldn't even work a _cell phone_.

Why is it always up to her to solve the problems of the world?

_Because you're the only one who can see the future,_ she tells her self.

"Shut up," she answers aloud.

---

It was the end, or at least it was going to be. The Three leaned over, peering into the bowl-like pensive to watch the pawns take their positions.

The vampire with a soul that was to fulfill the Shanshu Prophecy was as good as taken care of was gone, the other one was fading fast, and not even the Chosen One could stand in Their way.

However, that did not mean that the paper work was done.

---

End Chapter Four.

---

**_Next time in up coming chapters of Do I Bleed Red Enough? _**

_The air was thick and stale with the scent of it, dread weighing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe in the stinking oxygen. Rot and blood hung around them as they worked their way through the gore-ridden streets, hastily searching for any sign of life whether human, or demon._

_Not much could be said other than, "Sorry, we're late!" but somehow it wasn't enough._

_---_

_"Are you sure this is what you want, sharing a body with the thing that killed you?"_

_"I think if we work together, we can help destroy Them._

_"You think?"_

_"No, I know."_

_---_

_"I'm not sure if that's how it works Angel, but it's a plan, the only one we've got."_

_"What about-"_

_"If you don't have anything helpful to say-"_

_"Oh, but I do! It's 'Oh, God. Oh, God, we're all going to die."_

_"That's not what she meant, **Francis**."_

_"Fine, **Liam**."_

_---_

_"Do you honestly believe you can win?" asked the rotting corpse of Hamilton. It rather made him sick, not that he'd never seen rotting corpses, just not ones that talked as they rotted._

_"Not bloody likely. I'm just set on not **losing**."_

---

**Sooooo, do you love it? Do you hate it? Sorry it's both short _and_ late, but certain circumstances out of my control cough, "school," cough made it un avoidable. That and writers block. But now that I've been unblocked- oh, god, I just realized the connotation there, that's me: Captain Unintentional Innuendo – I hope to be setting a weekly update day, working on it at the moment.**

**But I do have some news for all my favorite peoples, I am desperately trying to make the chapters longer (hence: writers block), but for certain reasons (i.e.: writers block) it may not turn out this way, so it will make shorter but more quantity of chapters.**

**Please don't kill me,**

**Lilith**

**2nd post: Had to repost because I didn't get Wesley's eye color right. Thanks for the heads up kim.**


	6. Chapter 5: Result of Wrath

**Hello Luvlies, this is chapter 5; I replaced the Author's Note earlier with chapter four, just to clarify. Make sure you read that one first.**

**Thanks.**

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Do I Bleed Red Enough?

"Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely,

waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is very apoplexy, legarthy: mulled, deaf,

sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children then war's destroyer of men"

William Shakespeare

"Coriolanus, Act 4 Scene 5"

Chapter Five: Result of Wrath

The air was thick and stale with the scent of it, dread weighing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe in the stinking oxygen. Rot and blood hung around them as they worked their way through the gore-ridden streets, hastily searching for any sign of life whether human, or demon.

Not much could be said other than, "Sorry, we're late!" but somehow it wasn't enough, sure the apocalypse had not yet occurred, the army had been sent to wipe Angel and his team, as well as any other heroes. It was most likely they had been slaughtered- or in Angel's case- dusted.

Buffy had the urge to hit something, hard. Like the demon soldier that was just now picking itself up off the pavement.

Before any of the others had even spotted it, Buffy had begun pounding it into putrid pulp, giving it no chance to fight back. She'd killed it in less than ten minutes, bare handed. The others could only look on in horrified awe.

They had expected this, of course, for Buffy to be angry at the things that had taken away her former lover, but none had expected full out rage.

Buffy walked on ahead, the others still watching her, when she found him.

He was trapped underneath a dragon of all things, bruised and bleeding, his sword still clasped tightly in his right hand.

"Angel?" Buffy said, her voice barely above a whisper. She made her way over to the unconscious vampire, kneeling as she reached him, shaking his unmoving form.

He muttered something indiscernible, wincing as Buffy helped him out from underneath the legendary monster.

"Buffy! What're you doing here?" Angel asked, his voice going from surprised to angry very quickly.

"There's gonna be an apocalypse. Those are kind of my forte," Buffy told him, trying to lighten the mood. "Though it looks like there's already been one."

"Comes with taking on an evil higher power, I guess," he answered back, tone still as bitter, obviously not appreciating her humor.

"We're here now, we- _I_ want to help," she whispered softly, hurt by his coldness towards her.

"_Really_ now. Well I guess I just missed how you helped Cordelia out of the coma. Or how you stopped Illyria from killing Fred, burning her soul to pieces as she clawed through her body into this world. Let me bow to your feet in a gratuitous manner for all your selfless assistance in these most critical of days."

Buffy just blinked at him. She didn't even think Angel was capable of such hurtful sarcasm, or deep-cutting snark. She preserved those categories for two men: Spike and _Angelus_.

"Cordelia's in a coma?"

"_Was_, past tense, she died."

"Angel… I-"

"Don't bother, go back to Rome, to the Immortal. Leave me and mine alone; you seem content enough to leave us to die."

That was it. Buffy couldn't take it anymore. She brought back her fist and socked him in the nose.

"No wonder Spike didn't want to go back to you," a cold voice said behind her. She spun around to see a blue haired woman in red leather looking at her like the scum of the earth.

"You merely let this girl-child disrespect you in your kingdom without retaliation?" the woman asked Angel.

"I don't _let_ her do anything, she has free will, Illyria," Angel spat.

"What did you say about Spike?" Buffy asked, ignoring the obvious tension between the two.

"I did not kill you out of Wesley's request. Since he is dead, why should I put up with your insolence," Illyria shot back, ignoring Buffy's presence.

"Fred?" Willow squeaked in shock.

"Wesley's dead?" Faith asked, piping up.

"What was that about Spike!" Buffy shouted, not liking the way this Illyria seemed to see her as a meaningless peon. She stomped over and grabbed Illyria by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and face her.

"You dare lay your hands on _me_," Illyria shrieked, throwing Buffy to the other side of the alley.

"Now, now, children, play nice," someone behind Angel said, Angel finding it disturbingly familiar.

"Not you again. Come with another cryptic message about the apocalypse?" Buffy asked, picking herself up off the cement.

"Not exactly," the short man said, stepping out of the shadows.

"Doyle?" Angel asked in shock.

"'Allo, Angel. I see you're still- what was it Cordelia used to say- tall, dark, and broody," Doyle said with a smirk, cigarette dangling from his mouth, accent thicker than ever.

"Francis Allen Doyle, what does it take for one to come back from the dead?" Angel asked his old friend.

"Special permission from the Powers, a little persuading from Cordelia. She one of them now you know. Oh, and I'm getting the visions again, took over for Whistler."

"He die?" asked Faith.

"Retired, got his reward, eternal peace an' all."

"Why are you here?" Angel asked, serious now.

"Same as the rest of you, to stop an apocalypse."

---

Illyria took in an unnecessary breath, the scents of blood and death filling her senses as she peered around the alley dense with bodies, demon and human, alive and dead.

Strange things were starting to happen to her, since the beginning of the battle, since Wesley's death merely hours before. She'd experienced anger, fear, and sadness, all at once.

Somehow, she knew this was connected with Winifred Burkle, the former host of this shell.

**"I'm right here, ya know,"** said a slightly accented voice in the back of her mind.

"_So you _are_ still here, as I suspected."_

"**Somehow, I am, and there must be a reason for it. I thought my soul was supposed to be destroyed after you took over, but Cordelia said-"**

"_The one that became a higher power?"_

**"You know about that?"**

"_Wesley."_

She felt Winifred Burkle sadden at the mention of him, but also a warm, comforting feeling.

**"Cordelia said I could help you. You and Angel, but with what I don't know."**

_"You have vast knowledge in parts of this mind I cannot access."_

**"I suppose that's part of it, but it must have something to do with Wolfram and Hart. Cordy seemed particularly concerned about Them."**

_"Are you sure this is what you want, sharing a body with the thing that killed you?"_

**"I think if we work together, we can help destroy Them."**

_"You think?"_

**"No, I know."**

---

"So we know what we're gonna do," Angel said, looking around at the Slayers, Willow, Buffy, Illyria, Doyle, and Faith in turn.

"I'm not sure if that's how it works Angel, but it's a plan, the only one we've got."

"What about-"

"If you don't have anything helpful to say-"

"Oh, but I do! It's 'Oh, God. Oh, God, we're all going to die."

"That's not what she meant, _Allen_."

"Fine, _Liam_."

---

The lights were harsh and yellow, flashing dramatically as the rotting corpse sauntered forward.

He wasn't entirely sure a corpse _could_ saunter, especially one that was falling apart, piece by piece. Every time a bit of skin slid off and plopped onto the floor, he involuntarily shuddered, but only a little.

"Do you honestly believe you can win?" asked the rotting corpse of Hamilton. It rather made him sick, not that he'd never seen rotting corpses, just not ones that talked as they rotted.

"Not bloody likely, mate. I'm just set on not _losing_."

"You don't get it do you? You're stuck here. This is Hell, _mate_, one designed and monitored by the Senior Partners Themselves. You're in for more than just a sizzle and pop for a few thousand millennia. There's now way out," Hamilton explained, his voice becoming more obnoxious by the second. Spike hated zombies that were full of it: made the decaying faster, just not sanitary.

"Oh, really, then what's that door behind you?" Spike asked in a sugary-sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hamilton only laughed. "You expected me to fall for that old trick?"

"No, but I expect you'll fall for this one," another British accent spoke behind him, making Hamilton spin around to find Wesley's fist in his jaw. "You really should remember to lock _all_ the doors."

"Yeah, there are such evil people runnin' about these days," Spike added, picking him up and tossing him out of the way.

"I'll keep that in mind," Hamilton growled, lurching toward the two.

**Sorry it's short, ran out of ideas. I'm working with a new muse; she's getting the hang of things.**

**Hope you liked it, review and tell me what you think!**

**Luv Lilith**

**2nd Post: homonym mistakes, wrong name, thanks again kim.**


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